Dear Wing
by sierpinsky
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and Drift writes a love letter to the deceased Wing.


Dear Wing,

How is it over there? I'm now on a planet in the Beta-Zen region called Earth, which is mainly occupied by an advanced organic species that bears uncanny resemblances to Cybertronians. They are called Humans, and they are part of the reason why I'm writing to you today. It is 'Valentine's Day' today, the day where Humans celebrate expressions of love. Knowing you, you would absolutely adore this custom and all it entails, like exchanging gifts and things like that. But since you won't know of this custom, I'll take it upon myself to 'spread the love', as the Humans say, to you.

I have fulfilled my promise and have released the slaves. I am glad I did. I felt a sense of release and relief- I'm assuming you accept my actions as my way of saying sorry. I never apologized to you for betraying you that day, because if I had done as you said, I would never have become the mech that I am today. I would never have been able to see the light. I would never have been able to be with you.

Life is different without you. The ragtag Autobot team who helped me with the slaves (or whom I helped- I am not so sure) took me in despite recognizing me from my days as a Decepticon. The Autobot values match some of those you taught me, so I must thank you for making it easier for me to fit in with them. If not, I would be all alone.

Not that I am that much better off with them than I am without you. I am so, so sorry for treating you the way I did, calling you 'weak' and 'annoyingly optimistic', and I am deeply regretting it now. I did not appreciate you enough, your smiles, your laugh, your cryptic riddles, your persistence, and your faith in me…

Thank you. Thank you for being there when I needed you but was too proud to admit it. Thank you for fussing over my injuries that I dismissed as 'alright' but actually hurt like slag. Thank you for training me even through I hurled insults at you while we sparred. I would like to list more things I want to thank you for, but that would go on forever and I am running out of writing space.

I will wrap up by saying that even though I never said so, I hope that by my clumsy attempts at love and in the moments of intimacy we shared, you could tell that I love you with every inch of my being.

I miss you so much that it hurts.

Drift

* * *

His hand trembled, shaking a few drops of ink from the brush in his hand. They landed beside his name, two ugly black splotches staining his otherwise perfect script.

Drift hastily set the brush down, not wanting to ruin the paper any further. He had obtained a large sheet of Japanese paper and an equally large calligraphy brush and had written the letter in ink instead of typing it out on a datapad. He was sure that Wing would appreciate the effort on his part.

Another full-body tremor wracked him as he fought back a sob. Ever since Wing died, it felt as though an essential part of him was missing, a chunk of his spark, perhaps. The emptiness ached, clawing at his insides, threatening to shatter the façade he had so carefully constructed to hide the weak, hurting mech he really was.

A breeze ghosted over his plating.

_Let it out._

Drift squeezed his optics shut, his hands clenching into tight fists over his folded knees.

_I'll catch you if you fall. _

Warmth pressed against him from behind, hugging his shoulders. He felt a warm exhalation tickle his cheek. Not daring to open his optics lest he shatter the 'illusion', he clutched at the arms draped over his chest.

"Wing?" he croaked, tilting his head back to press against a painfully familiar shoulder.

"Drift," came the soft, sad reply. Lips pressed against his cheek guard. Drift twisted, desperately latching onto the form behind him.

"Wing!" Drift' suddenly couldn't care less how weak he sounded in that moment. "You're- I- Please stay..."

The arms shifted to accommodate him, then tucked him against a broad chest, pressing his face against the hollow of a throat. "I can't..." Wing's reply had a hint of desperation in it.

"But how am I supposed to live without you?" All reservations forgotten, tears escaped from beneath Drift's shuttered lids and streamed down his face.

"You must be strong and live on, Drift. Make my sacrifice worthwhile." He heard Wing's voice very close, and suddenly, desperate, passionate lips pressed against his.

The moment was perfect. He could taste Wing, feel the force of Wing's emotions through those gentle lips, Wing's arms holding him in a firm yet tender embrace, his own hands running over tangibly warm plating...

Then he gasped in shock and his optics flickered open- and Wing was gone. His hands reached futilely at nonexistent plating and he overbalanced, toppled forward and caught himself before he smashed his face into the floor. Sobbing, he pressed his forehead to the fragrant tatami, willing it to soothe and comfort him like Wing had done before, but it was a poor substitute.

_How weak you've become_, a voice at the back of his processor sneered.

No, not weak. Strong. Strong, because I've found the courage to face emotions like these.

And he mourned.

* * *

Drift didn't realise that he had fallen asleep till he woke up with a horribly stiff neck and back. He groaned, gingerly raising his head off the damp tatami. The sight that greeted him made him freeze, optics widening in shock.

The two ink drops on the paper were gone, and in their place, in neat script, was:

_I forgave you for your not-so-fine moments a long time ago; I understand why you behaved that way. And there's no need to thank me. Everything I did was because I love you from the bottom of my spark._

_Wing_


End file.
